


I’m still laying in the bed

by OnlySkyAboveMe



Series: And then some [2]
Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Cute Kids, F/M, Fluff, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-27
Updated: 2018-06-27
Packaged: 2019-05-29 14:58:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15075623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnlySkyAboveMe/pseuds/OnlySkyAboveMe
Summary: Tessa and Scott, taking care of their boys





	I’m still laying in the bed

Scott’s head is throbbing as he slowly comes to, the vague recollection of a crazy fever dream still pulling at his subconscious as her turns gingerly onto his side. He can hear and feel shallow puffs of breath against his chest, and pries his eyes open to see the light brown hair of 3-year-old Teddy curled up in the bed next to him. He is fast asleep, but with a small crease of pain and frustration in his forehead. The spots on his back and chest have been generously daubed with calamine lotion, and a pair of Spiderman socks have been pulled over his hands. This brings a smile to Scott’s face, remembering with fondness the tiny pairs of white mittens they used to put on him when he was just a few weeks old, his sharp little nails were vicious and a small scar from one was still visible on Tessa’s chest to this day.

Scott shifts gently in the bed, catching his own spots against the sheets as he props himself up on one elbow to reach for the note on Tessa’s pillow. It reads,

_He was crying for you when you went for a lie down. I could only get him to nap if I promised he could sleep next to you. Text me when you wake up._

He smiles at the messy scrawl on the note. Years of knowing one another means he understands this was written quickly and exasperatedly, most likely with a crying Teddy on one hip. He turns again in bed, using all his resolve not to wriggle too much against the sheets in order to itch the cluster of spots between his shoulder blades. He reaches for his phone on the bedside table, pausing before unlocking it as he always does, eyes roaming over the photo on his lock screen. It was taken last summer; Tessa is standing waist-deep in a swimming pool waring a beautiful green swimming costume, each of their boys on one hip wearing Finding Nemo swim shirts, their wet hair tangled on their heads where pairs of blue goggles sit. Tessa is smiling brightly for the camera, both the boys’ eyes on her as they stare up at her giggling. Even though the photo was now months old and Oliver in particular had grown and changed significantly since then, he couldn’t bear to change it to a newer one. This one makes his heart light up every time his phone does. He taps out a quick text to Tessa.

_I’m awake. Please could you bring the calamine before I need gloves too?! Thanks xx_

_Also, bring meds for Ted, I can feel the heat coming off him without touching him._

The human hot water bottle next to him stirs then, whimpering gently as a socked hand comes up to rub his face. Scott reaches to intercept it, catching it gently, “Hey buddy, don’t scratch. It’ll make it worse.” Teddy begins to cry softly, eyes still closed as he reaches for his father, who scoots closer to him to stroke his hair, reluctant to embrace him tightly due to both of their raised temperatures. His efforts are redundant though, as Teddy soon moves and plasters himself to his chest, arms reaching up to tug nervously at Scott’s too-long hair (his scheduled hair cut had been cancelled at the end of last week when the nursery called him and asked him to come and collect a very poorly Teddy). In return Scott kisses his temple and pats his bum gently. This is partly because it the only place on poor Teddy’s body to be free of chickenpox, and also because Scott remembers the hours he had sat up with a colicky month-old baby Ted, rhythmically tapping his tiny diapered butt to lull him to sleep.

He hears the door open on the other side of the room, and raises his head slightly to see Tessa enter, carrying a small tray and the medicine box. Oliver comes through the doorway beside her, carrying Teddy's favourite plush bunny and two of the tiger mascot toys Scott and Tessa had received six years ago in PyeongChang. He creeps tentatively towards the bed, clearly unsure about how to approach his younger brother in this state. Tessa sees this and, after placing the medicine box down on the bed, gently pushes him forwards and says,

“Teddy, sweetheart, Ollie’s brought something for you.” Oliver holds up the bunny and places it into Teddy’s outstretched hand (Scott having removed the socks a moment before) his head still buried in his father’s neck. He slowly brings the bunny up to his face and wastes no time in chewing on its ear, a nervous habit he has had for a while. Scott glances up at his wife questioningly. Last time he’d seen that bunny it was being handed to him enclosed in a plastic bag due to it being covered in vomit. Tessa sees his glance and answers, “I put it through the washing machine. Twice.”

Scott chuckles gently and continues to cradle Teddy against his chest. Tessa sets about taking their temperatures and administering their medicines. She produces a cold compress for Teddy’s forehead and sets Oliver the task of dabbing the calamine onto Scott’s spots with cotton wool. Scott overacts his reactions to the cold lotion, jumping away from Oliver with little shrieks, causing Oliver to cackle with laughter as he chases his father’s moving body with the cotton wool brandished in his fist. Scott is relieved to see Teddy smile gingerly at their antics, and Tessa laughs along too as she props up Teddy and coaxes a sippy cup of rehydration fluids into his mouth. He cries and gags around it, but Oliver distracts him by making the tiger plushies act out Tessa and Scott’s career highlights until he settles into his mother’s arms and drinks the nasty stuff.

Eventually, Tessa fires up the iPad and starts a movie for her boys, and within 20 minutes both are snoring softly between her and Scott on the bed. Scott watches Teddy carefully for a while, his attention only drawn away when Tessa gently grasps his hand across the bed.

“He’s fine Scott, please don’t worry about him. He’s no sicker than Ollie was when he had chickenpox a couple of years ago. I guarantee you in a couple of days he’ll be running around as if nothing ever happened.”

“I know, I think Friday just freaked me out a bit. I didn’t know that much vomit could come out of such a small person.” He wrinkles his nose at the memory, mentally reminding himself to find a company to valet (or possibly burn) his car once he felt well enough himself. “Plus, I’m annoyed that I caught it too, and that my Mom conveniently forgot to tell me I’d never had it as a child!” He pouts as he crosses his arms over his chest, attempting to surreptitiously scratch at the spots there. “Thanks for taking care of us, T. You’re an angel, I just hope you don’t get sick too!”

Tessa laughs gently at him and reaches over to pull his hands away before they did too much damage. “Honestly,” she sighs with a smile still on her face, “how many children are in this bed?”

“At the moment?” asks Scott, “safe to say three!”

She grins broadly at him, sighing and looking over their three faces with his favourite heart-eyes. Two weeks later Tessa would thank her lucky stars that she didn’t catch chickenpox for the second time in her life. She would also realise that she had grossly underestimated the number of children present in their bed on that quiet November evening.


End file.
